All About Me!
>> A third-person self-description I wrote fairly recently...from the point-of-view of a pedophile<<
Some say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, but I disagree. It’s the hands- the labor, the self-worth, the tenderness (or lack thereof)- everything essential about a person. Her hands were large with long, slender fingers, nails painted a delicate shade of moonshine pink. Her thumbnails were long while the rest were short and rounded off- I caught a glimpse of a rebel just in that. She wore an expensive gold watch on her left wrist and would glimpse at it habitually from time to time.
I glanced up at her soft, round face. Her features were unremarkable, save for a striking set of humongous hazel eyes that soaked in everything they fell upon. Her eyebrows were sloppily plucked, and her make-up was smudged slightly. Her lips, though nice in contour, were dull and chapped and sloppily disguised with light-pink lipstick.
Her dirty blonde hair was cut fashionably, framing her face around the ears in an almost boyish manner, save for a few locks falling down the back of her neck. Her bangs were parted haphazardly, as though refusing to stay in place, yet the obviously artificial sophistication in her poise led one to overlook it.
Her attire surprised me the most. She wore a black long-sleeved shirt that accented her slender upper torso and projected her full bosom. It had a psychedelic edge to it: a tie-dye/fireworks effect, springing from the bottom-left out. That and her chipped iridescent necklace hinted at a flower-child mentality, which might explain why she was spending Sunday morning with her mother in a Unitarian church. She would stretch from time to time, revealing a flat tummy, slightly less tan than the rest of her. In contrast, she seemed to be concealing her lower body. Her dark blue jeans were enormous; they fit her hips nicely and the onlooker could only speculate at the flabbiness of her thighs. The pants were decorated on the front with turquoise oriental symbols of some kind, and I caught a glimpse of a faded dragon slightly below the back pocket.
She wore cute but rather uncomfortable-looking platforms, as she would fidget with them every few minutes. They were open-toe with a fluorescent green body and white laces and heels. She rocked back and forth of them, trying to look innocent and grown-up at the same time. Overall, I couldn’t place her age; she must’ve been between about sixteen and twenty.
When the time came for giving hugs, I turned around and embraced her, after she’d finished a long hug with her mom. "Hello, welcome," I told her, pressing her young, sleek body against mine as she squeezed back. There was something very needy in her stance, and though she probably only stood a few inches shorter than me- about 5’10 or so with her platforms- she suddenly seemed very childlike and sad, as if the poor creature had been neglected and was trying to take in enough affection for a lost lifetime.
"Hi there," she said after a moment, politely but indifferently, and moved on.
If you'd like to learn more about me, I reccomend reading
my humanities paper, which my mom claims is too personal to publish on the Internet (remember...I have no shame!)Also, you might enjoy my psychology paper.
If you like my writing, you should check out my last-minute history paper, which is excellent, if I do say so myself :)
And if you're interested in having me write or edit a paper for you for a minimal fee, click here
What my friends have to say about me
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Oh, and to prove what a sick fuck I am, here's my April Fool's prank for this year: I sent out this suicide letter that I wrote when I was just coming off Prozac (which, actually, wasn't all that long ago), a couple of days before the actual holiday. And to prove what an even sicker fuck I am, I'm publishing their responses right here.
